flora
As Kaisel’s fingers tighten around her wrists and glide slowly upward, shackling her gently in place with his conviction, Flora leans in without hesitation. Her aqua eyes search his, taking in the brightness of intent, the unflinching way he’s already made the decision for both of them, and for a moment the idea sparks wild and delicious in her chest, curling like a flame around the ache that never quite goes out. He’s right, of course; it would feel good, so godsdamned good, to pour her energy into something real and tangible again, something she could rebuild with her own two hands, something that didn’t feel like heartbreak or politics or waiting for resurrection. Because the Marin's were just supposed to look after things while Flora was off keeping all of Torchline fucking safe; they were never meant to keep the bar, but..
Letting Kaisel into these pieces of her doesn’t come naturally, not even now, though it is easier than it used to be. Still, she has to rearrange her thoughts like stepping stones across a creek, each one placed with care so that she doesn’t fall apart entirely as she lets herself be seen a little more. Her breath catches before she speaks, and when she does, her voice is low and steady, threaded with the softness of truths she hasn’t admitted out loud in some time. "The nice answer—the one I gave everyone who asked about the bar—was that when Torchline didn’t really want me at first, I took over the Hanged Man as a way of giving myself a purpose." Her fingers flex slightly against him, drawing idle shapes across the sequins bunched beneath her palms. "It gave me something that was mine, something that let me feel like I belonged here. I loved it."
Her smile curves faintly, the kind that tries to make peace with the past even when it still stings, and she shrugs once, golden curls slipping over her bare shoulder with the movement. "But…considering the Marins literally fell out of the sky not that long ago, maybe Caly needed that too. Whereas now.." She tilts her head as if measuring the weight of what she’s about to say, and then gives it freely. "I'm so close to bringing Enzo back. I'm ruling Torchline, alone now, but successfully enough before that. I’ve got Wildering House and the Sugartide. I have you. I don’t need the bar the same way I used to."
That’s the clean version, the soft one. But it’s not the full truth. Her cheeks flush, a darker rose blooming beneath her freckles, and she shifts slightly above him, the movement stirring a hush of cloth and breath between them as her expression tightens. "That’s the nice answer." Her voice grows quieter, and though it doesn’t lose its rhythm, there’s a thread of tension winding through it now, something sharper. "The other answer is that picking a fight with the children of B.M.F.—who are also Safrin’s kids—is a really stupid thing to do." Her mouth twists faintly with the admission, her eyes flicking toward the horizon as if checking to make sure no celestial retribution is hurtling toward them already.
"And once Caly finds out that you and I are together, I’d bet my whole damn queendom she'd rather burn the bar to the ground than admit they can’t handle it if we pulled some nonsense, than give it back to me." Her fingers knead absently against his chest, slow and circular, like a cat soothing itself on a blanket, and she shakes her head with a soft exhale. "And that’s assuming they don’t just call Safrin in for backup, with mommy-dearest providing all the information they'd need to know about who was targeting the bar."
The thought settles heavy between them, and for a while she simply gazes down at him, her lashes casting soft shadows over her cheeks as her expression dims to something more uncertain. "Besides, could you really do that to Caly?" she asks at last, her voice quieter now, edged with something that isn’t quite judgment but doesn’t lack concern either. Her fingers pause in their idle movements, resting still for a moment over the sequins pressed against him, and she shrugs lightly, though the gesture doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She isn’t sure where he and Caly stand anymore, knowing only that they'd decided to try and be friends. If that was the case, though, it strikes her as odd now, watching Kaisel so confidently speak of tearing something away from someone he was beginning to care so much about. Odd, and maybe a little telling.
Letting Kaisel into these pieces of her doesn’t come naturally, not even now, though it is easier than it used to be. Still, she has to rearrange her thoughts like stepping stones across a creek, each one placed with care so that she doesn’t fall apart entirely as she lets herself be seen a little more. Her breath catches before she speaks, and when she does, her voice is low and steady, threaded with the softness of truths she hasn’t admitted out loud in some time. "The nice answer—the one I gave everyone who asked about the bar—was that when Torchline didn’t really want me at first, I took over the Hanged Man as a way of giving myself a purpose." Her fingers flex slightly against him, drawing idle shapes across the sequins bunched beneath her palms. "It gave me something that was mine, something that let me feel like I belonged here. I loved it."
Her smile curves faintly, the kind that tries to make peace with the past even when it still stings, and she shrugs once, golden curls slipping over her bare shoulder with the movement. "But…considering the Marins literally fell out of the sky not that long ago, maybe Caly needed that too. Whereas now.." She tilts her head as if measuring the weight of what she’s about to say, and then gives it freely. "I'm so close to bringing Enzo back. I'm ruling Torchline, alone now, but successfully enough before that. I’ve got Wildering House and the Sugartide. I have you. I don’t need the bar the same way I used to."
That’s the clean version, the soft one. But it’s not the full truth. Her cheeks flush, a darker rose blooming beneath her freckles, and she shifts slightly above him, the movement stirring a hush of cloth and breath between them as her expression tightens. "That’s the nice answer." Her voice grows quieter, and though it doesn’t lose its rhythm, there’s a thread of tension winding through it now, something sharper. "The other answer is that picking a fight with the children of B.M.F.—who are also Safrin’s kids—is a really stupid thing to do." Her mouth twists faintly with the admission, her eyes flicking toward the horizon as if checking to make sure no celestial retribution is hurtling toward them already.
"And once Caly finds out that you and I are together, I’d bet my whole damn queendom she'd rather burn the bar to the ground than admit they can’t handle it if we pulled some nonsense, than give it back to me." Her fingers knead absently against his chest, slow and circular, like a cat soothing itself on a blanket, and she shakes her head with a soft exhale. "And that’s assuming they don’t just call Safrin in for backup, with mommy-dearest providing all the information they'd need to know about who was targeting the bar."
The thought settles heavy between them, and for a while she simply gazes down at him, her lashes casting soft shadows over her cheeks as her expression dims to something more uncertain. "Besides, could you really do that to Caly?" she asks at last, her voice quieter now, edged with something that isn’t quite judgment but doesn’t lack concern either. Her fingers pause in their idle movements, resting still for a moment over the sequins pressed against him, and she shrugs lightly, though the gesture doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She isn’t sure where he and Caly stand anymore, knowing only that they'd decided to try and be friends. If that was the case, though, it strikes her as odd now, watching Kaisel so confidently speak of tearing something away from someone he was beginning to care so much about. Odd, and maybe a little telling.
lust's a liar, a short lived fire
it isn't what you and I are at all
it isn't what you and I are at all
